There's a kid in my art class who concentrates so hard while he is drawing that it can be felt; he turns my classroom into a library. He anchors the room. I met his parents when they came to pick him up. They both love him so much.
I used to have moments when I would look at my palette and think it was a beautiful perfection. Why do I need to paint? It's so beautiful as it is.
I am soaking up the quiet solitude and long shadows of autumn. The trees are orange and the sky is clear blue and my dog is itching her pesky fleas.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
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